


Out of this world

by scarlettandblue



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Gratuitous Smut, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 16:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10598235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettandblue/pseuds/scarlettandblue
Summary: It is a PWP pure and simple.  (well notpureobviously)Hotch/OFC/MCSpoilers, I guess, up to Season 4 - The InstinctsAdult content.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again my old stuff from LG here as a refugee from possible harm....  
> Not necessarily of interest to anyone but me.
> 
> With the invaluable help of who beta read the story and really really helped to make it pretty and sparkly enough for you. And any bits that aren't are all my fault
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> Nothing is mine.  
> Everything belongs to the writers and the actors and the TV people.  
> I just want to play with them a little.  
> So please don't sue me

Aaron Hotchner took his jacket off once he had entered his room and secured the door with the lock and the safety chain. Once the jacket was on a hanger in the closet, he loosened the knot in his tie enough to allow for the top button of his shirt to be undone. He carefully folded the cuffs of his shirt over a few times until the sleeves were rolled up mid way to his elbows before he washed his hands and dried them. 

It wasn't much but it was enough to draw a line under the day. It was enough to mark the place where he stopped being _The Agent In Charge_ , at least until someone from the local police or field office phoned him or one of the team knocked at his door.

If he had been at home, he would have changed into some jeans and a T-shirt and drunk a bottle of beer. But he wasn't home, he was in Las Vegas, they had finished a case and no one had died on his watch. Everyone had been relaxed, and all of them except Reid had gone out for a meal. Aaron had even found himself laughing a few times, had felt a little lighter.

He took one of the miniature bottles out of the mini bar and poured a quarter of the dark liquid into a glass. He held the glass up to the light, mesmerised for a moment by the warm amber effect before he lowered it and took a small appreciative sip. It was a pretty good bourbon for the mini bar of a mid priced Vegas hotel. 

Aaron sighed as he swirled the liquor gently before taking another taste. He sat in the upright desk chair, which he actually found much more comfortable than the squashy over-stuffed armchair. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the far side of the room. 

It was what he'd always imagined as a child. That he would be the man in the dark suit. A man with a shirt that was still crisp and neat at the end of the day. A man who loosened his tie and rolled his sleeves up just a little so he'd seem at ease and yet still be smart. A man who would sip an expensive drink and be at peace for a few precious minutes when the day was over.

The phone interrupted his thoughts; it was Rossi asking Hotch to make sure Prentiss got back to her room okay. She'd been drinking with Morgan and Dave in a bar just off the strip and it sounded like she'd had a little too much. Aaron agreed to head down to the entrance and collect her, before he hung up. 

He pulled a sour face at his reflection in the mirror and knocked back the rest of the bourbon. Nothing in his life had turned out the way he thought it would.

 

Emily had actually been fine, a little looser and louder than normal, but no trouble to steer into the elevator and up to her room. Aaron was headed back to his room less than ten minutes later, unsettled, the small feeling of peace he'd created gone. 

There had been a moment when he and Prentiss were standing side by side in the elevator, maybe a little closer than they normally would, and he was suddenly, painfully aware that if he stretched his fingers out he could touch her. That if he turned his head he could watch her, that if he said the right words there was every chance she'd come back to his room with him. Those thoughts filled his head with disquiet and for that he blamed David Rossi.

Aaron had tried very hard to purposefully misunderstand what Rossi had been saying earlier. If he was honest he had followed the line of logic to it's conclusion with very little difficulty. Rossi always did have a reputation back in the day. It wasn't simply because of his dark good looks, or because he was Italian and had a demonstrable sense of rhythm or even because he had the kind of compelling personality that drew people. There had always been more. 

Back when Hotch first knew him, Dave Rossi seemed to have this natural affinity for all things sexual. He always knew who was sleeping with whom around the office. He always knew which of his female colleagues wanted a little fun, and which ones were serious, and he flirted outrageously with them all. If the office gossip was to be believed he slept with them all too. Aaron had overheard the occasional snatches of conversation through the years and it seemed Rossi was the guy that all the women wanted. But there was more.

Back in the days when Hotch was first with the BAU there was a kind of standard working model for the serial killers they hunted, and it inevitably led them back to the sexual behaviour of the Un-Sub. Rossi always had the knack of seeing the hidden sexual agenda. He could spot the kernel of aberrant behaviour, the signs of deviance either in the evidence the killer left behind or in whatever suspect they were interviewing. It had always been the single most impressive thing about Dave Rossi, and at the same time the most disturbing.

Aaron wasn't as cool and calm now as he had been. He dropped his jacket on the chair by the door and dragged his tie off, leaving it where it fell. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, shrugged out of it, and dropped it on the floor in his haste to pour the rest of the little bottle of bourbon into a glass. He downed about half of it in one gulp as he made his way into the bathroom.

Once he had the shower turned on Hotch sat on the closed lid of the toilet drinking the rest of his liquor as the room began to fill with steam. He shed the rest of his clothes at a more leisurely pace. Shoes then socks and his underskirt. He released the buckle of his belt and undid the button on his pants. Then he sat a moment while he took the final swallow of drink. He could feel the rush of alcohol in his head but just then he was more interested with the ease it would afford him than he was concerned about the impropriety of drinking this much while he was away with the team.

When he felt the warmth of the alcohol begin to spread through his body he was ready to take his shower. He stood and eased the material of his pants and briefs down over his hips then let them fall and stepped out of them. He went to the door to turn off the bathroom light. It was dark, but the indicator light for the shower and the extractor fan gave a slight red glow to the room. He left the door open a little as well and this allowed some indirect light into the room.

Hotch stepped into the shower and pulled the glass door closed.behind him. Immediately he felt the warm darkness enfold him as he let the hot water cascade over his bowed head and down his back. Once he felt the tension ease a little he tilted his head up and let the water wash over his face scrubbing his hair back out of his eyes to enjoy the feeling of hot water raining down on his closed eyes and into his mouth.

He grabbed the complimentary shampoo, quickly washing and rinsing his hair then he opened the shower gel. It had the scent of lemon and something spicy that he couldn't identify, as he rubbed the gel across his skin the lather it released was soft and the scent became slightly heavier, with a hint of musk. His movements slowed and for once he let himself enjoy the touch of hands moving across his skin in the darkness.

He was so tired lately. Work seemed to eat up all his waking hours, and just lately it disturbed his sleep as well. So, while he was surprised how little he actually missed Hayley, at least when they had been together there was a line drawn between work and home that had seemed to have vanished since he was alone. Apart from the two precious weekends a month when Jack came to stay with him and the occasional night when Hayley asked him to baby-sit his son, his whole life was about work now.

But for once worries about work faded and he gave himself over to a few minutes of pleasure.

His hands pressed into his chest palms rubbing hard across his nipples until the sensation hovered between pleasure and discomfort. One hand slid lower, his nails dragging through the hair on his chest then down across his belly and the trail of dark hair that led to the aching hard flesh between his legs.

As his fingers closed around his cock he had to bite his lip to keep from a frantic thrusting into the tight grip that would end this all too quickly. He blamed Dave Rossi for putting thoughts of sex into his head, but now the thoughts were there he wanted to draw the moment out. He wanted more than twenty seconds of unbearable pressure and a few moments of relief. He wanted to spin a little fantasy in his head to make the pleasure last.

Hotch often wondered if _Sexual Fantasies from the Behavioural Analysis Unit ~ A Profile of Profilers._ would be a best seller. It amused him sometimes imagining the look on Strauss's face when he told her that was the book he planned to write when he retired and did she care to contribute? Considering what they saw every day he imagined it would be a rich seam to mine. 

He smiled a little as he teased his own flesh, maybe thinking about Strauss was not condusive to the mood, but sometimes he wondered how the people he worked with saw him. Did they imagine his head was filled with pale cool blondes who kept things nice and vanilla in the bedroom, or did they believe his mind was some place darker, some place crueller. He often imagined sex in a dark alley.

He adjusted the shower spray and squeezed more shower gel into his hand, then leaned forward to rest one arm on the tile and pressed his forehead against it. The water was set to massage now and it beat down on his neck and shoulders in a hard pulse that he enjoyed. He took hold of his cock a little harder, thumb skimming the head on each up-stroke, spreading the slippery gel along his length and beginning to work himself while his mind supplied the images that excited him.

It was always dark, hot, wet. He always imagined wearing clothes that were plastered to him because of the hot rain that was pounding down. He was always there for sex and whoever was in that alley was there for the same thing. The scent was spicy and musky like an animal in heat.

In the darkest deepest corner he would find what he was looking for. Wet silk covered her body, her dress clung to her, her hair hung dark and flattened to her head. She'd always be facing away from him pressed up against the rough wall. He ran his hand down her back from neck to mid thigh and then slid it up catching the sodden material in his fingers and dragging it up to expose her. She would be wearing silk panties. They would be wet and transparent from the rain as well. His pants would be open and he would take himself in hand and press his cock against her, slide it up and down her closed legs and the curve of her ass. 

In the shower Hotch leaned forward a little more spreading his legs a little wider as he sped up the movement of his hand. In his head his feet slid between hers and he spread her wide open letting his cock drag up to rub across her, only the wet material kept him from sliding into her. She dipped her back, lowering her head and pushing herself back against him. There was no mistaking the meaning of that, she wanted to be fucked now.

Hotch turned in the shower, leaning his back against the tile; freeing his other hand to touch and pull on his balls while he stroked his cock quicker. The water was beating down on this stomach and groin adding to his pleasure.   
In his mind he slipped one hand down between her legs and dragged the wet material aside. Her flesh would be hot and wet where he touched her. He'd slid two fingers inside her easily pressing up and back until she bucked her hips and moaned. He bent his knees a little and pushed up into her hard. He wrapped his arm around her, cupping his hand around the soft flesh of her breast, rolling the hard nipple between his fingers. He pulled her back flush against his chest. As he began to ride her, he pressed his face against her neck, whispering, a deep, harsh sound so unlike his normal voice.)

He told her what he was doing to her, how he was going to fuck her until she screamed, how she would look with his cock inside her. And as he spoke he looked down her body wanting to see the material plastered to her. Wanting to see his hands on her. Wanting to see how she looked as he fucked her. And looking down he realised they were not alone in the alley.

Aaron moaned. He was fisting his cock hard, holding his balls tight in his other hand and pushing up behind them with his knuckles, right into the place that made his knees feel weak and colours sparkle behind his closed eyes. 

In his mind he was staring down into wide hazel eyes. In his head _he_ was kneeling at his feet just as he had that one time. In his head that same look of stunned hurt was quickly masked behind stoic endurance. It made Aaron harder still and a jolt of excitement sizzled through him.

He told Spencer to kiss her. Wide eyes looked up, betrayed, but Spencer didn't move. Hotch grabbed him by the head and pulled him closer, told him to make her come. Spencer opened his mouth as if to protest but Hotch didn't give him the chance. He pulled at Spencer until his mouth was pressed up against the silk of her panties and Aaron growled _kiss her! And make her come._

In the shower Hotch was pressed back against the tiles. He was breathing hard, his hand pumping, his cock hot and aching, and he knew he was close to the edge.

In his mind Aaron was thrusting into the slick wet heat. She was warm and wet in his arms. Spencer was on his knees his wide mouth pressed against her as he worked hard with his lips and tongue. Their eyes met and Hotch could not look away. His hands dropped until he was cradling Spencer's head between his hands, his thumbs caressing his jaw. He could feel Spencer's mouth working hard; sucking, licking his lips and tongue moving frantically, he could see how Spencer wanted to please. How urgently he moved. 

Hotch felt his pleasure peak and he thrust hard; once, twice and once more. As his orgasm washed through him his eyes stayed open watching. Spencer gazed up at him. At the moment of his greatest pleasure he noticed Spencer's eyes fluttered shut as his throat worked hard. Hotch gentled his hands, stroking them through Spencer's hair letting his thumbs caress the hard line of his jaw. As he looked down Spencer swallowed and licked his lips as if he had tasted Hotch. 

Aaron let his head rest back against the tiles. He was spent. The lassitude that stole through his body was soft and welcome and he enjoyed the feeling. After a time he pushed away from the tile and turned the shower off. Then he wrapped himself in a warm fluffy towel to dry off. 

Much later as he lay in bed he wondered if this was what David Rossi had in mind for him when he had said he needed to think about getting laid.


End file.
